Fallen Fortunes

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  *CHAPTER XI.*

  *THE LION'S DEN.*

  "Welcome to the Lion's Den!" spoke the man Wylde, as he threw open thedoor of a room which he had unlocked, and kicking a smouldering log uponthe hearth, evoked a cheery blaze, by the aid of which he lighted a lampthat swung over a table littered with books, papers, and quills.

  Grey stepped within the threshold, and looked about him with curiouseyes. The house they had entered a few minutes before was a tall andnarrow one in Harpe Alley, leading from Shoe Lane. It was not an oldhouse, for it came within the area of the great fire of fifty yearsback, and had been rebuilt, like the whole of the surrounding buildings,with greater speed than discretion. Grey had once come across SirChristopher Wren in his other life, and had talked with him of theshort-sighted policy observed in the rebuilding of the city. The greatarchitect declared that had his plans been carried out, London wouldhave been the finest city in the world: but the haste and false economyof the citizens and city companies had thwarted his plans, and the oldlines of narrow and crooked streets were kept as before, to the cost ofsucceeding generations.

  This house had been hastily run up, like those surrounding it, and thetempest from without rattled and shook the walls and windows as thoughto drive them in. But the room itself, though no more than an attic,bore an air of comfort very pleasant to the eyes of the homeless Grey,whose own quarters only contained the barest necessities of life; forthere were some rough shelves full of books in one corner, and a rugbefore the fire gave a look of comfort to the place. Two armchairs ofrude pattern, but furnished with down cushions, seemed to invite repose;and everything was scrupulously clean, even to the boards of the floor.

  "'A poor thing, but mine own,'" spoke the Old Lion, with his grim smile,as he motioned to Grey to take one chair, and he himself pulled up theother. "I have dwelt here two years and more now, and I have not beenunhappy; albeit I never thought to end my days in a garret, as belike Ishall do now."

  "Fortune has been hard upon you," spoke Grey earnestly. "You have thegifts and the powers; it is cruel that your limbs should have becomecrippled."

  "We must take the rough and the smooth of life as we find it," answeredthe other. "I have had my moments of rebellion--I have them still; butI seek the consolations of philosophy; and I have never yet wanted forbread or shelter. But there be times when the future looks dark beforeme. Those who remember me, and pity my misfortunes, drop away one byone. I lacked not for patrons at the first. When I could not longertread the boards, I was ofttimes engaged to make men laugh or weep atsome gay rout at a nobleman's house. Then, too, my jests and quips werein request at gay supper-parties, and I was paid to set the table in aroar, which in all sooth was not difficult when the wine-bottle wasgoing round and round. Oh, I knew gay times for many a year after mystage career closed. But patrons have died off one by one. I am morecrippled than I was, and the young wits are pushing to the front, whilstthe Old Lion has been crowded out. My pen still serves me in a measure.I can turn an epigram, or write a couplet, or even make shift to pen asonnet that lacks not the true ring. Grist yet comes to the mill, butmore and more slowly. There come moments when I wonder what will be theend of the Old Lion's career--the poorhouse, or a death by slowstarvation in some garret!"

  "No, no," cried Grey almost fiercely; "that would be shame indeed.Surely, if nothing better turn up, there must be places of refuge forfallen genius. Have not almshouses been built, again and again, by thewell-disposed for such men as sickness has laid aside? You smile, butin sooth it is so."

  "Ay, and how many are there to claim the benefits of pious founders?Yet no matter. I brought you not here to talk of my troubles, but ofyours. That romance of which you speak--"

  "It would seem the world cares little for such things. I did hear thesame tale everywhere. Was it a pamphlet I had to give them, a lampoonupon some great man, an attack against the Tories, the Whigs, theDissenters? If so, they would read it; for there was great eagernessamongst the people to read such things, and no matter what side wasattacked, there were hundreds eager to buy and to read. But aromance--no; that was a mistake altogether. A writer of successfulpamphlets might perhaps find readers for a merry tale, or even aromance; but for an unknown aspirant to fame--no, that was anothermatter. No one would buy it; no one would even read it; though therewere one or two who took it and glanced through some pages, praised thestyle and the easy flow of words, and advised me to take topamphleteering, promising that they would read anything like that."

  "That is it, that is it!" cried the Old Lion, rising and pacing up anddown the room with his halting stride. "Write a filthy lampoon, ascurrilous libel, a fiery diatribe against any great or notable man, andall the world will read and set themselves agog to know the writer.Look at Swift, with his 'Tale of a Tub;' look at De Foe, with his crowdof pamphlets--men of talent, I do not doubt or deny, but full of galland bitterness. Yet they are read by all the world. Fame, if notfortune, has come to them, and fortune will doubtless follow. The lateKing, they say, would have made Swift a bishop. The Queen will not: hisribald wit disgusts her; but he has admirers and patrons everywhere. Itis the bold and unscrupulous who flourish like the grass of the field.True poetry and literary beauty are not asked, or even desired. A pendipped in gall is a pen dipped in gold in these days of party strife.And the genius that wields not this bitter pen sits in dust and ashes,asking bread, and that well-nigh in vain."

  "How should I write these party diatribes--I who know little of theircries? Whig or Tory, Tory or Whig--what care I? The Tory of oneParliament is the Whig of the next. Have not Lords Marlborough andGodolphin gone over to the Whigs? The Queen herself, they say, ischanging slowly."

  "Nay, the Queen herself will never change!" cried Wylde, with anemphatic gesture. "The Duchess has changed, and she seeks to use herinfluence with the Queen to make her change also, and give up her Toryadvisers altogether. But she will not succeed. The Queen may be timidand gentle, but she has all her father's tenacity and obstinacy. Let myLady of Marlborough look to it! She may strain the cord to breakingpoint. Already they say that the new favourite, Mrs. Masham, is oustingher kinswoman, the Duchess, from the foremost place in the Queen'saffections. Favourites have fallen ere this through too greatarrogance. The victories of Ramillies and Oudenarde, and the successesthat have followed, make the Duke the idol of the nation and thefavourite of the Queen yet; but the day may come when this may change,and then the high Tories may come in once more with a rush."

  "I should be sorry for the Duke to lose favour," spoke Greythoughtfully. "I did see him once, and had speech with him after thebattle of Ramillies, and a more gracious and courtly gentleman it hasnever been my lot to meet."

  Suddenly the Old Lion's eyes flashed fire.

  "You have seen and had speech with the Duke on the field of Ramillies?You saw the battle, or something of it? Speak! Tell me all! I musthear this tale. It may mean much to us both."

  "In sooth it is little I can tell you of the battle, for I was in thethick of it myself. It was by accident that my servant and I came uponthe rival armies; and another happy accident gave me the chance of doinga small service for the Duke. After the battle, when we were hard byLouvain, he called me to him, and spoke many gracious words. I wouldfain hope that some day I may see him again."

  "You had speech with him? You saw his manner and his port? Tellme--show me--how did he carry himself?"

  Grey rose to his feet, laughing. He humoured the whim of the old actor.He was not lacking in the histrionic gift, and threw himself into hispart with good will. He uttered quick commands, as though to hisofficers; he threw out his arms, as though directing one man here,another there. He recalled numbers of words spoken by the General, andthese he reproduced faithfully and with an excellent imitation ofMarlborough's polished, courteous, yet commanding air. Then he let hisface soften, and addressed the old man as he himself had been addressed,with words o
f thanks and with promises of friendship. Finally, throwingoff the mask, he broke into a laugh, and was astonished at the eagerchange which had come upon the Old Lion.

  "Boy!" he cried, with a new access of energy, "I trow I see for both ofus a way to fame and fortune."

  Grey's eyes lighted as he eagerly asked his meaning.

  "That is soon told. Have you heard how, after the victory of Blenheim,none could be found to hymn the praises of the great General till thepoet Addison was introduced to notice, and penned his immortal lines?Now, since the victory of Ramillies, I have burned with desire to showthe world by somewhat more than verse alone the power and genius ofEngland's mighty soldier. See here!"

  The old man rose and crossed to his table, where he fetched from adrawer a scroll covered with writing, which he put in the hands of hiscompanion. Grey saw that it was a dialogue cast in dramatic form, andthough he could not read it then and there, he could see, by casting hiseyes over it, that there were many very fine periods in it, and that itwas filled with descriptive passages of some great battle, and theenergy and glory of the General in command. He raised his eyesinquiringly to the impassioned face of the author, which was workingwith excitement.

  "See you not something of the form? It is a dramatic interlude. Itshould be played upon the stage during the intervals of the play. Timesits aloft, aged and grim, his scythe in his hand, his hour-glass besidehim, and he speaks of the decay of mankind--that the world's greatnessis vanishing, its men of genius growing ever fewer and fewer. That ismy part. I take the _role_ of Time. To him then enters one in theguise of youth--one in the flush of manhood's prime--one who has seengreat and doughty deeds, and comes to rehearse the same in the ears ofold Time, to bid him change his tune, to tell him that giants yet liveupon the earth. This youth comes with songs of victory; he speaks ofwhat he has seen; he describes in burning words and glowing colours thatlast great fight wherein England's General put to flight the hosts ofthe haughty monarch of France. For months has this been written; formonths have I gone about seeking the man to take the part of youth andmanhood. But I have sought in vain. All those whom I would have chosenhave other work to do, and did but laugh at me. Those who would gladlydo my bidding, I will none of. You saw how they did mouth and rantto-night, thinking to show their talent, when they only displayed theirimbecile folly. But here have I found the very man for whom I have longwaited. You have youth, beauty--that manly beauty which transcends, tomy thinking, the ephemeral loveliness of woman; you have the gift; youhave seen the great hero: you have caught the very trick of his wordsand speech. Oh, I know it! Once did I hear him address the House ofLords, and when you spoke I seemed to see and hear him again. The greatworld of fashion will go mad over you. We shall draw full houses; weshall succeed. I know it! I feel it! The Old Lion is not dead yet!He shall roar again in his native forest. Say, boy, will you be myhelper in this thing? And in the gains which we shall make we willshare and share alike."

  It was a very different sort of fame from anything Grey had pictured forhimself, and for a moment he hesitated; for he realized that were thisdramatic sketch to take hold of the imagination of the town, and drawfashionable audiences, he could scarcely avoid recognition, disguisehimself as he might. But as against this there was the pressing need ofthe moment. He was well-nigh penniless; his romance seemed likely to bebut so much waste paper. He was hiding now even from Dick, whoperiodically visited London to see him, lest the honest fellow shouldinsist upon maintaining him from his own small hoard. Here was anopening, as it seemed, to something like prosperity; and the alternativeof being drafted into the army as a pauper recruit was scarcelysufficiently attractive to weigh in the balance. Moreover, there wassomething so earnest and pathetic in the glance bent upon him by the OldLion that he had not the heart to say him nay, and he held out his handwith a smile.

  "I will be your helper; and as for the gains, let them be yours, and youshall give me what wage I merit. The play is yours, the thought isyours: it is for you to reap the harvest. I am but the labourer--worthyof his hire, and no more."

  The compact was sealed, and the old man then insisted that Grey shouldtake his bed for the night, as he must sit up and remodel his play uponlines indicated by the young man, who had seen the field of Ramilliesand the disposition of troops. Grey furnished him with sundry diagramsand notes, and left him perfectly happy at his task, which woulddoubtless occupy him during the night, whilst the weary guest slumberedpeacefully upon the humble bed in the little alcove beyond the largerroom.

  When Grey awoke next morning, the sun was shining; a frugal butsufficient meal was spread upon the table; a fire was blazing cheerilyupon the hearth; and there was the Old Lion, with his manuscript beforehim, muttering beneath his breath, and throwing out his hand in tellinggesture, making so fine a picture with his leonine face and shaggy maneof hair that Grey watched him awhile in silence before advancing.

  "Good-morrow, and welcome to you, my son," was the greeting be received."I have had a beautiful night. The muse was hot upon me. The roundedperiods seemed to flow from my pen without effort. Let us to breakfastfirst; then shall you read what I have written, and together we willamend it, if need be. But first shall you remove hither from thatunsavoury lodging of which you did speak. Here is money: pay yourreckoning, and bring hither any goods and chattels you may value. Wemust dwell together these next weeks. We will work hard, and before theweek closes I will have some manager here to listen to our rendering ofthis scene. We will have the world crowding to see and hear usyet!--King Fortune, I salute thee, and I thank thee from my heart thatthou didst send this goodly youth to me, and didst prompt my heart fromthe first to take note of him and seek his friendship."

  The removal of Grey's simple belongings took but little time, and luckydid he feel himself to be able to call this comfortable abode his home.A small attic upon the same floor of the house made him a sleepingchamber at very small cost, and his days were spent in the sunny southgarret, which was called the Lion's Den; and there they studied, andwrote, and rehearsed this eulogy upon the Duke, and the prowess of theEnglish arms, the old man introducing here and there allusions andinnuendoes which Grey scarcely understood, but which Wylde declaredwould bring down thunders of applause from the house--as, indeed, provedto be the case.

  Grey had a faint misgiving at the first that no manager might beforthcoming to admit the dialogue to his boards; but there the old actorknew his ground. He succeeded in inviting two of the most successfulmanagers to listen to a performance in the attic, without theaccessories which would add much to the effect upon the stage; and evenso the scene proved so telling, the acting of the Old Lion was so superbin its quiet dignity, and Grey (who had learned and studied patientlyand diligently) went through his part with such spirit, such power, suchdramatic energy, that even his instructor was surprised at his success,and the managers exchanged glances of astonishment and pleasure.

  It was just the sort of piece to catch the public favour at thisjuncture. Marlborough was still the idol of the nation, and might beexpected home some time before the winter closed--perhaps beforeChristmas itself. The nation was discussing how to do him honour, andwould flock to see a piece wherein his praises were so ably sung.

  "With a wig such as the Duke wears, and with military dress, Mr. Greycould be made to look the very image of the great General," cried one.

  "He has something the same class of face--handsome, regular features,grace of action and bearing. He does but want to be transformed fromfair to dark, and his acting of the Duke will bring down veritablethunders of applause from all."

  And then began a gratifying rivalry as to terms, in which the Old Lionsustained his part with dignity and firmness. Both managers desired tosecure this interlude for their respective theatres, and at the last itwas settled that the performance was to be given two nights a week atDrury Lane, and two at Sadler's Wells, the astute old actor retainingthe right to make his own terms at private houses upon the two re
mainingnights of the working week. The costumes were to be provided by themanagers, but were to be the property of the actors, who would undertaketo replace them should any harm befall them at private representations.

  When these matters had been satisfactorily settled, and certain otherdetails arranged, the great men took their leave in high good humour;and the Old Lion, shaking back his mane of shaggy hair, grasped Grey bythe hands, his eyes sparkling in his head.

  "Your fortune is made, young man! your fortune is made! You will neverneed to fear poverty again. What life so grand as that of the man whocan sway the multitude, make men laugh or weep at his bidding, hold themsuspended breathless upon his lips, move them to mirth, or rouse them tothe highest realm of passion? Ah, that is life! that is life! Have Inot tasted it? Do I not know? And that life lies before you, my son.I will be your guide and mentor; you have but to use patience anddiscretion, and with your gifts and with your person you shall hold allmen in thrall. Ay, and you shall write, too--Cibber shall find a rival.Men shall sing your praise. The world shall lie at your feet. And Ishall see it--I, who have found and taught you, who have discerned yourpowers with pen and tongue. I shall be content. I ask nothing betterof fortune. Ah, my son, it was indeed a providence which made our pathsto cross!"

  Grey smiled, and was silent. The life of an actor was not the life ofhis ambition, and he doubted if it would enthrall him as it hadenthralled the Old Lion. But it would be at least a new experience. Hewas ready and willing to make trial of it. As matters now stood withhim, he had scarce a choice. He would go through with this thing thatwas planned, and with the future he would not immediately concernhimself.

  So he smiled back at the old man, and took his hand, saying simply,--

  "I am well pleased that I have acquitted myself to your liking. I willseek to do you credit in the eyes of the world."